


Rebuilding Burnt Bridges

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bokuaka - Freeform, Demisexual Kozume Kenma, Everyone is a dork, Fluff, Iwaioi in chapter 3, KuroKen - Freeform, M/M, Masturation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, This is trash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-07-26 11:27:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7572421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akaashi has gotten used to Bokuto's absence and Bokuto hasn't realised how big of a part Akaashi is in his life. Kenma cannot be independent and Kuroo is a dork.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Obsessive

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fun fun.

Bokuto couldn't help but wonder if the lights felt this heavy to everyone. Whether it felt like weighted rocks tied to peoples’ ankles and around their necks. There were moments where the sensations of being pulled down changed to something similar to drowning, encompassed, sinking, submerged, trapped in  _nothingness._ The moments where he tricked himself into believing the strobes were coral, the atmosphere of perfume and sweat was salt water, where the vibrations of pounding music were waves crashing above him. It was both blissful and trauma-educing. The throb of his skin, head, and chest every time the music delved into deeper and louder tones both numbed and electrified Bokuto. He was in love with this insanity.  

Akaashi on the other hand had almost created his own nest in a booth within the corner of the club. Just because he was used to loudness didn't mean he enjoyed it. The swarm of bodies that were confined by an invisible wall of excess light moved with fluent confidence and adrenaline. Neither of which the grey-eyed man possessed at the current time. Yet the sight of people acting like this consumed Akaashi. He had never experienced something remotely similar to the rush they were falling through. He felt jealous and intoxicated by the view. The idea of being high of lights, drugged on noises, and drunk on each other’s bodies. He felt both stressed and eased. He was stressed because of the sickeningly sensual atmosphere being completely overpowering and eased by the way he wasn't part of it. It was calming to observe. He often observed and calculated, it was a habit he got from playing Volleyball and dealing with- 

He couldn't. He didn't want to think about it. He wasn't heartbroken. It was more like his heart was vacant. Nothing happened between him and the captain. Nothing was going to. Ever. It was stupid to ever expect something. Even Akaashi himself didn't know what he expected back then. The man hoped he had confused unrequited love with inspiration. No. He couldn't of loved Bokuto. He just admired him. That was all. Not that his idolization mattered anyway. He only saw Bokuto once after he left Fukurodani. Which was a moment when they bumped into each other at a supermarket, then never again. It wasn't a new occurrence. This event happened almost 5 years ago. Akaashi didn't dwell on it- however it did pop into his mind from time to time and the brunette would focus on something else. To discard the thought, the same way Bokuto discarded him. 

The craziness of the floor was getting to Bokuto- if he didn't take a breather he would faint. He knew that clearly. So he danced his way through the intoxicated, dancing bodies and limbs towards an exit. Outside people were smoking and drinking alcohol from a nearby shop because the drinks inside were far too expensive. If he was drowning in there then the feeling he was experienced now was stretching out his wings. The pinions reached outward to achieve the optimum wingspan. However, these metaphorical wings felt ruffled, always felt like a few feathers were missing. The people littered outside started to act as casual as possible when the bouncers of the club looked in their direction. They could get shooed away if they were seen acting so 'pathetic' outside of the club and drinking alcohol that was not purchased at the bar.

In the chill of the clean air, Bokutos own drunkenness swept over him as intensely as the waves he imagined. He felt  ~~sick~~  invincible. He thirsted for more of the ecstasy the club offered him. It felt similar to something he always craved. He was always searching for something, but he has yet to find it and discover what it was.  So he turned to go back into the club.

Akaashi, on the other hand, had only had a singular drink over the hour he had endured- only because it was a 'free first drink night'. He was starting to render himself to thoughts about the past. It distracted him from the malicious volume of the music. It seemed so out of character for Bokuto to just abandon him. The spiked hair male promised to return at training camps but never did. He promised they would stay as close as they did when they were in high school. The captain never made excuses for his absence. It was frustrating. 

Akaashi needed to get out of the club, or get out of the chair he was in. He just really needed to distract himself from his distraction. Air. He definitely needed fresh air. He stumbled upwards and staggered towards the nearest exit- which happened to be the front of the club. After a minute of leaning on things to walk past and awkward shuffling he made it out of the front, scooting around a bouncer and offering a polite "Excuse me".

That was when this seemed feel both unrealistic yet vivid. The person he was thinking about was standing in front of him; looking annoyingly casual about the matter. He wasn't shocked about Akaashi's sudden appearance before him. It almost seemed that Bokuto didn't know who he was. 

Akaashi gulped, exhaled shakily and muttered out a weak: "Bokuto-san?" 

Bokuto just waved him off and walked past him, raising his left hand to show security his wristband and was re-issued into the club.

Akaashi shuddered as the man who was once closest to him ignore him completely and effortlessly. He furrowed his brows, and looked over his shoulder as the figure disappeared into the distance. Did he do something wrong? 

It had been years. Akaashi was an adult, so was Bokuto. He was also going to finish university this spring. He wanted to go back to his campus. He didn’t like coming back home during the holidays. They wasn’t anything left for him here. He didn’t play volleyball anymore, he didn’t converse with his old high school friends anymore, he didn’t have much to do at ‘home’. Akaashi debated on going in there and reuniting with his old teammate. But then he saw the futility in rebuilding bridges others burned and forming connections in a place where phantom strings had been cut. The only connection he had was with Kenma, who wasn’t at home as he went back to university a week ago. 

Bokuto didn’t hear Akaashi, he was focused on re-joining the blur of movements inside the club. The way people jumped and lifted their hands to the music reflected a similar style to spiking. The drunken movements were nowhere near as precise and swift as a spikers arm nevertheless it intrigued Bokuto. He had continued volleyball up until this point in his life and he loved the sport with everything he had. He had gotten extraordinary at teaching and learning it. At studying movements and such. He had been conditioned to focus on his team, focus on the ball and the movements of those around him. Thinking back on it with his smashed mind that his coach said to not drink in excess. Well then,  **fuck it.**

 

 

 

Akaashi didn’t want to remember that night. He woke up on a couch he had never seen before, with a water bottle and a note on a table near the note. ‘You passed out last night on the train station platform, here is some water. – The railway staff’. Holy shit that is embarrassing. He rubbed his head. What happened. The last thing he remembered with undeniable clarity was leaving the club and seeing… no. That couldn’t have been real. The club must be putting hallucinogens in the air or something. He shouldn’t revive the past in anyway. He doesn’t want that.

Nothing bad happened. He just didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to reminisce about how nothing happened at home and how his pessimism has never been corrected in this place. Slowly he sat up, peeling himself away from the couch. He slid out his phone from his pocket and noted the time: 6:28 AM. He plucked the water from the table and removed the lid. He smelled the water to see if it smelled weird, suspicious to whether it was drugged or not. With no hesitance after this action he took a gulp swiftly. His phone was drastically low on charge. 

Akaashi didn’t remember getting drunk at all. Maybe he was just sleep deprived. He got up and left through the only door in the vicinity. When he opened the door he found that he was in the staff room. He was welcomed by a receptionist who allowed him onto the platform. He flashed them a weak smile before dragging his feet towards a vending machine. That’s when he heard it.

“Akaashi?” 

Who was saying his name. He slowly turned his head to look over his shoulder and before him was Bokuto, sitting on a bench with one foot lodged up, a knee hugged to his chest. In the morning light he looked extremely muscular… and tired. 

“Bo-” He began, yet he was cut off by laughter. 

“Of course I would cross paths with you when I’m like this.” He jumped up to his feet, his eyes lighting up as if he was looking at the same Akaashi who he was so familiar with in Fukurodani. “I’m not shocked. Are you on a walk of shame too?” He asked, raising a brow.

Akaashi figured out the situation almost immediately. Bokuto must’ve been returning home from some one-night-stands house. His clothes were dishevelled, he looked tired yet very happy. Akaashi also had a very small allotment of time to decipher a response yet he blurted out:

“Yes, actually, I am on my way back from a… night out” He lied. 

“What was her name?” Bokuto asked. It wasn’t as if Bokuto was trying to call out Akaashi’s bluff, it was more like he was curious. 

“I can’t really remember.” Akaashi lied again. He had never been with a girl, he never planned to. He never saw girls as anything other than a platonic and symbiotic opportunity of friendship. Never sexually or erotically. He did try to. 

Bokuto started laughing again. “Did you leave before she woke up so you could avoid something awkward?” He asked. Akaashi discovered that lying to Bokuto was both easy and hard. Since Bokuto was so painfully gullible it was easy, contrastingly it was crippling Akaashi to lie to him.

“I guess so.” Akaashi responded simply.

Bokuto was acting as if nothing had changed. As if Akaashi hadn’t grown and developed different interests. Bokuto didn’t want Akaashi to change. He didn’t want Akaashi to become something else that he didn’t know. Bokuto thrived off having something he knew, being comfortable. 

The younger man stuffed his hands in his back pockets, the older one ruffling up his own hair. 

“What was  _her_  name?” Akaashi asked, his tone obviously indicating the woman Bokuto had spent the night with.

“They were sweet. I think she was called something beginning with ‘T’ and he was… I can’t remember his name at all. My, my… I must’ve been shattered yesterday.” He laughed, with no shame in his voice. 

Bokuto had a threesome. 

That was fucking fantastic. 

“Oh.” Akaashi responded with hesitance. He had no clue how to further the conversation from that. Is he commenting on his drunkenness because he couldn’t remember their names or was it because he slept with a man? Even if it was a three-way, someone straight may have to be extremely drunk to be in that situation. Was Bokuto straight? He had no idea. 

Bokuto groaned as he stretched his arms and dusted off his scruffy clothes. "Here comes my train. Are you getting this one too?" He asked, looking at the train and then back at Akaashi. 

The shorter man sighed, not knowing whether to find this situation fortunate or unfortunate. "Yes." He said, the train coming into the station at 6:30 AM. Right on time. 

They boarded the train silently, Bokuto walking in front happily with his head swung back, whistling. Bokuto moved to look for seats yet the carriage was packed. Akaashi managed to squash himself in a corner and Bokuto looked around for him- seeing him and managing to wade his way through the people.

"The train is busy today!" Bokuto stated the obvious.

"It's a Sunday, people go to church in the morning, Bokuto-San." Akaashi said. That was the first time he had said his name to him within this morning conversation. Part of it felt natural yet part of it felt foreign. Suddenly the more people got on the train before the department and Akaashi found Bokuto pressed against him. 

"So, how have you been?" Bokuto asked, as if he wasn't this close and if it was something like 'what were you doing this weekend?'. 

"I've been good." Akaashi said blatantly, trying to keep the conversation to a minimum. He enjoyed talking to Bokuto- yet it was so out of the blue and strange now. It felt more nostalgic than normal. 

It was also aggravating how Bokuto had no sense of personal space, so the older male was oblivious to the lack of space between them.

"Akaaaaashi..." He whined softly. He often butchered his name in practice and at school, it was a habit that Akaashi had hoped would wear out with age, which was apparently not the case. "You're meant to ask how I'm doing in return!" 

"How have you been, Bokuto-San?"

"Great!" 

"That's nice." 

"What do you mean by 'nice'?" 

"It's good to hear that you're doing good, Bokuto-San."

Bokuto paused. "It really does feel nice talking to you again." His tone was different. "You haven't changed that much." Which was wrong. So wrong. Akaashi knew he had changed. He knew he was nothing like how Bokuto knew him. 

Akaashi stayed silent. 

"Oh, Akaashi, what team do you play for?" Bokuto asked, the previous sincere tone now gone.

"Huh?" Akaashi responded, genuinely confused as to what he meant.

"Volleyball. What team do you play for? I want to watch you play again." Bokuto said. He was very honest. His honesty was stifling and almost suffocating. 

"I don't..." Akaashi sighed softly and Bokuto's expression started to sadden. "I haven't played since my last year of High school." Akaashi felt like he was confessing a sin at church. 

Was Bokuto disappointed? He looked it. 

"Though, I take it you still play." Akaashi said, trying to change the atmosphere as the train stopped and some people got on and off. 

"Yeah." He said, like he was upset, like he was wincing in pain. 

There was a couple of minutes of silence between the two. 

Except for a time when someone bumped into Bokuto, pressing him further into Akaashi. Bokuto said something to them when they apologised and he said it was okay. But he said nothing to Akaashi. 

They both got off at the same stop and exited the same way. If Akaashi remembered correctly, Bokuto would've walked the opposite way and the two would've separated. Yet he didn't. Akaashi kept changing his pace to try and walk without Bokuto yet the multi-coloured hair man kept matching him. 

When they reached a park that was close by to Akaashi's parents house Bokuto stopped. He had grabbed hold of the other wrist.

Akaashi wondered what was going on. He was about to question it until Bokuto asked something first.

"Why did you quit?" 

Akaashi wouldn't use the word "quit" to describe the situation. He just didn't re-join. He didn't keep playing. There wasn't particularly a reason to it. So he just shrugged. 

"I want a real reason." Bokuto demanded. It was peculiar to see him like this. He wasn't looking at Akaashi; he was looking at the pavement.

"It's just Volleyball." Akaashi said. His voice was both soft and harsh at the same time. 

Akaashi flinched his arm lightly, trying to pull out of Bokuto's grip. Bokuto was much stronger than he was in High school. Even back then Bokuto was stronger than Akaashi. Since Akaashi's exercise is limited to walking everywhere, he had lost a considerable amount of muscular strength. Now they were seriously unmatched. 

"Do you still stay with your parents?" Bokuto asked randomly. 

"For now." Akaashi said, not knowing how to explain that he was on break from university and lived on campus within a few seconds. 

"Will they mind if you don't come home until later?" Bokuto asked, now looking at Akaashi. 

"I would have to tell them but, I am tired." Akaashi said, not knowing what Bokuto had planned. The grip on his wrist tightened and Bokuto pulled Akaashi into the park. 

"What are you doing?" Akaashi asked, a tint of fear in his voice. 

"We're going to play." 

"What do you mean 'we'?" He said, trying to stop running and being dragged along. Bokuto noticed the boy’s reluctance and stopped. Looking back at him. 

"I don't like it. You've changed too much." Bokuto said as if it were a burden.

Akaashi snapped. "Huh? What do you mean? Of course I've changed you haven't spoken to me in years what did you expect?" He spoke within a reasonable volume. He wasn't shouting. In fact, his calming aura and violent words were more powerful at the level he was speaking then. "Anyway- I'm not the only one who changed." He said, managing to pull out of the grip when Bokuto was distracted.

"Excuse me?" 

"I saw you at the club yesterday. And you completely blanked me. So don't give me that shit." Akaashi spat out. Bokuto had never heard Akaashi swear. Not that Akaashi cares anymore. 

"You were there?" Bokuto asked, changing his expression completely. His lack of focus was extremely annoying; his attention span was even worse. 

"That's not the point. The point is that we aren't as close as we were anymore and that is your fault." Akaashi knew he had taken it too far. He shouldn't have issued any blame. He had little time to apologise or even change his expression. As Bokuto had managed to re-grab his wrist at unbelievable speed and now he was sprinting. Akaashi couldn't run this fast, his feet were starting to drag and a mild pain started to grow in his hips. 

Akaashi had enough of this. With everything he had he stopped move his feet and jerked backwards. Both pulling out of Bokuto's grip and falling to the floor, bracing himself on his hands. "Stop clinging to the past, Bokuto-San." He said as the man he referred to as the 'great horned owl' turned around. He started to stand up, lifting his hands off the gravelly pavement. Noting there were a few cuts and grazes on his hands. He clenched his fists to inflict a stinging pain which would subside his anger. 

"Your hands-" Bokuto looked at him, both guilt and aggravation building up in his expression.

"Don't talk to me." Akaashi cut him off. 

Bokuto looked physically agonised. As if those words were knives stabbing him. 

"I'm going home." Akaashi turned to walk away, looking at his hand before starting his fist step before two muscular arms came around him. Until a warm body was pressed against his back. 

"I'm sorry." Bokuto’s forehead was pressed into Akaashi's shoulder.

"I know. But that doesn't make it any better." 

With those words, Bokuto’s hands became loose and Akaashi began to walk away. 

Bokuto just stayed there. Not knowing what to do or how to respond. 

 

 

 

Kuroo had received many calls from Bokuto over his life. Sometimes they were confused, other times angry, other times ecstatic, other times miserable, and other times excitable. He had never received one with a mixture of all of them. Until today. From what he gathered between odd sobs and hysterical laughter was that he had met up with Akaashi somehow and was rejected in some way. 

Kuroo had no idea how to respond initially. 

Bokuto had started speaking at immense speed. He had to slow Bokuto down... Again. That was something Kuroo had envied about Akaashi was his control and tolerance. 

Kuroo shushed him slowly and tried to find a solution.

"I could ask Kenma." Kuroo pondered. Half to himself and half offering Bokuto.

"What would Kenma do? I swear you're obsessed with Kenma." Bokuto said like an annoyed child. 

"For your information, Kenma is friends with Akaashi and they still talk to one another." Kuroo said, almost boasting.

"Oh." He exasperated in realisation and paused. "But you're still obsessed with Kenma."

"Stop trying to change the Subject, Bo." 

The phone call had continued for around about 3 hours. Bokuto and Kuroo talking about university and Akaashi. 

Bokuto didn't exactly realise how long it had been since he saw Akaashi. He hadn't initially thought of it that way. This then prompted the white and black haired male to reminisce about his high school volleyball career for another hour and a half.

A large portion of that time he was whining about Akaashi. Kuroo wondered how hypocritical Bokuto was being when he called Kuroo obsessive with Kenma when he's like this over Akaashi.

"He still says 'san' like he did back then." Bokuto said, his voice getting softer. "I feel like I need to see him."

Kuroo just sighed. "My phones about to die, if you want to continue just come over."

 

 

 

Bokuto did go over, after all, Kuroo did live closer to where he trained. Kuroo had moved out of his parents’ house last summer. Bokuto wanted to move out but his mother doesn't trust him entirely 

The two had been playing slender, before wimping out to play a game that Kenma had recommended. It was a two player game and they were at a boss which they could not defeat for the life of them so they just gave up on gaming. 

Bokuto momentarily left to brush his teeth and came back into the room to find Kuroo already on the phone to Kenma. He scoffed and laid on floor near where Kuroo was sitting. 

"How did you defeat- Bokuto is here." He said, midway through his question and put Kenma on speaker.

"Hello, Bokuto." Kenma said in his run-of-the-mill lethargic tone. 

"Hey! Kenma!" Bokuto said loudly before Kuroo shushed him as a reminder of how late it was and that people were sleeping.

"Kuroo. That boss is water. Water beats fire. You need the electric sword to beat him." Kenma said, knowledgeable in this particular subject. There have been many times where Kuroo has helped Kenma with games and buying him games and spoiling Kenma. Bokuto had an idea about Kuroo's possible feelings but he was waiting for Kuroo to say it openly. 

Kuroo laughed and responded with something about not having the sword. However, Bokuto had questions.

"Kenma." Bokuto said, his tone was different from his usual excitable one. "Does Akaashi hate me?" Bokuto sounded melodramatic and heartbroken when he asked the question. 

The youngest responded blatantly. "No. He just doesn't know you anymore. And you don't really know him."

Bokuto responded: "but I do know him."

Kenma sighed again. "Bokuto, what are his subjects at university?"  

Bokuto was stunned into silence.

"What university does he go to?"

Bokuto looked at the floor.

"When does he go back to university and when does university end?" 

The truth was harsh and Kuroo wanted to stop Kenma from continuing yet he knew it was necessary.

"I... Don't know." 

Kuroo paused. "Akaashi does multiple subjects?"

Kenma responded efficiently. "His main degree is in statistical mathematics yet he also does photography as an extra." 

Bokuto always knew Akaashi was clever. Bokuto stayed silent, he was stunned.

"Shouldn't he be going back to university then?" 

"Not yet, he's waiting for his knew camera to come in since he ordered it. Then he'll be going back." 

Kenma knew a lot. 

Bokuto didn't.

How could Bokuto let this happen. Akaashi said it was his fault. Was it? 

"Kenma. Do you have any of Akaashi's contact information?" Bokuto broke his silence. He felt awful. He knew nothing about Akaashi anymore. He thought Akaashi was the same and he wanted to know how wrong he was. 

"I do. I'll text it to Kuroo. I'm going to hang up now, I'm tired."

"Sleep well, Kenma." Kuroo said.

"I will." Kenma said softly, as if this was something they did often; and then the phone cut off. 

Kenma had texted 2 links to Kuroo, an email and phone number. Kuroo had never seen Bokuto type something into his phone so quickly. He recreated a contact for Akaashi with all of the information. 

One of the links was to Akaashi's social media, his Twitter and Facebook. The other one was to a blog which had photography on it. Bokuto spend half an hour scrolling through the photos, pointing each one out to Kuroo and telling Kuroo how good it was even though Bokuto knows absolutely nothing about photography and Kuroo can see for himself perfectly fine. 

 

 

 

It was so late. Akaashi stretched out of bed to see why his phone had lit up and made the text alert sound. 

It was Kenma:

_I've just been talking to Kuroo and Bokuto was with him. He seemed sad. I gave him your contact info. I'm going to sleep now._

Brilliant. Fantastic. He rolled his eyes and typed back:

_If this becomes annoying I'm going to blame you._

He ran a hand through his hair, not expecting Kenma to text back. He just hoped that he could go back to his campus soon and stay there. He only had to deal with his own issues there and interacted with people who weren’t too erratic. It felt like everything in his life had quietened down after Bokuto miraculously left. For his last year at Fukurodani, practice felt too quiet, it felt like something was missing. Now that empty place was just gone. It wasn’t ever refilled. Why was it trying to return now? If it did make a comeback, would it only be filled for a short time and he would be haunted again? Akaashi didn’t want that. He couldn’t do that to himself.

He plopped back onto the bed. His room was emptier. Everything was at his dorm. Most of his pictures and clothes, his miscellaneous stuff and main computer. Here: there was his laptop on the floor and a couple of textbooks alongside a recently started photo album, a suitcase with clothes in that he didn’t bother unpacking, his phone that was on charge. The bed didn’t feel all that comfortable either, however that was more due to the quality of the mattress rather than Akaashi. The place where he grew up didn’t feel like home anymore.

Why was that?

Akaashi didn’t know. He wanted to. He loved Tokyo. He knows the routes of all the trains still and the shortcuts within the city and its rural areas. He knows where his favourite food is in every shop and he _knew_ a lot of people.

He needed to sleep. He felt like he was thinking too much. He felt like he shouldn’t of left Bokuto back in the park earlier.

 

 

 

Bokuto had spent a while stalking Akaashi on Facebook it was borderline stalker. He had discovered so much that he didn’t know. He created a list:

  * Akaashi has a tattoo behind his ear of a wing.
  * Akaashi went to a pride festival.
  * Akaashi learnt how to play basic piano.
  * Akaashi knows a lot of people.
  * Akaashi doesn’t know how to drive.
  * Akaashi feeds a stray cat at his university.
  * Akaashi is extremely confident.
  * Akaashi is different now.



Bokuto looked at the last one that he wrote and sighed, rubbing his thumb over the indent he created in the paper from his excitable scribbling and messy handwriting.

He clicked on one of Akaashi’s friends that was mentioned in a post. Now he was being full blown stalker. However, he found out something else.

Apparently Akaashi was gay.

Bokuto laughed lightly. Akaashi told him he had slept with a girl so he knew that this guy was lying. Akaashi wouldn’t lie to Bokuto.

Bokuto threw a pillow at Kuroo who had been sleeping peacefully.

“Dude, what the- “

“I think I need a drink.” Bokuto said calmly.

“Go to sleep.” Kuroo slumped back down instantly and Bokuto groaned in annoyance.

“But… Akaashi is apparently gay.” Bokuto whined. Not meaning as if it was bad.

“Yeah and?”

“What do you mean ‘Yeah and’?”

“How did you not know that?” Kuroo said, sitting up and raising on of his brows.

“You knew?”

“Most people knew. So many girls were close to him because most girls have a thing for gay guys. I don’t understand it.” Bokuto pulled a face. He was realising how oblivious he is and he hated it. He thought he was so good at observing, but apparently not. “Anyway, what has Akaashi being gay got to do with you needing a drink- didn’t coach say not to drink in excess?”

“I don’t care what coach says, this is overwhelming. I thought I knew Akaashi and I don’t- okay.”

“Bo- it’s been like 5 years since you last saw him. You’re becoming obsessive.” Bokuto rubbed his head. He wasn’t getting annoyed. He understood that this feeling he had of emptiness was new. Was it always there? Then suddenly a pillow hit him in the face. “That was revenge for you hitting me, now please- just go to sleep.”

 

 

 

Kenma woke up to Akaashi’s text and responded to it with:

_Blame Kuroo, he allowed it to happen._

Truthfully, he had seen quite a lot of Bokuto recently. It was usually with Kuroo over skype. He hadn’t met him in person since the high school volleyball tournament in his second year. However, he had seen and spoken to Akaashi on a weekly basis since that tournament ended.

Akaashi responded within twenty minutes, by then Kenma had just gotten out of the shower and was started to get dressed.

_Is that an excuse, Kozume?_

Kenma chucked softly to the response. Him and Akaashi were close. They knew most things about one another and their friendship has been mutually beneficial, both of them are equally done with everything so hanging out together is extremely easy.

_Excuses, Keiji? You should know me better._

He pulled his clothes on and went to brush his teeth returning to his phone to see the response.

_You’re right. Your excuses are terrible._

Kenma typed his reply quickly.

_I think you’ll find my excuses are amazing._

His phone sounded a couple of minutes later.

_So it was an excuse then?_

Kenma was much more confident when texting. It’s notably requires less effort and it was so much easier to correct what you say before you say it.

Kenma opened up a new text and sent it to Kuroo:

_How many eggs should I use to make an omelette? I have five._

Kenma was still hopeless at living alone. He barely manages to keep his dorm tidy. However, he’d only be in it for a couple more weeks. Kenma had depended on Kuroo for a lot of things. He felt safer around Kuroo and more accepted around Kuroo since the taller male actually noticed him. He wasn’t afraid to ask Kuroo things.

 

 

 

Kuroo texted Kenma back:

_Two eggs. Don’t burn the dorm down._

Kuroo watched as Bokuto stared at his phone in debate over talking to Akaashi.

Kuroo just started at the number Kenma had sent him and opened up a blank texted.

_Hey, this is Kuroo._

He sent it and looked at Bokuto.

“I messaged him.” Kuroo said and his friend practically jumped up.

“What did you say, did you tell him I was with you? Has he responded.”

Kuroo used hand motions in an attempt to calm Bokuto. Needless to say, it didn’t work.

“I just said hello.”

Then his phone went off. Bokuto stared at him with wide eyes.

Everything went quiet for a moment until Bokuto lurched forwards and grabbed the phone he stared at the screen before groaning and handing back the phone. It was Kenma just texting back: ‘ _Okay, Thanks_.’ Bokuto was like a child. He only wanted things when it was either inconvenient or when it belonged to someone else. He walked over to the kitchen and silently started making coffee, before pouting and looking over at Kuroo who was holding back a laugh as if to ask him if he wanted any.

Bokuto made coffee, as Kuroo started up his laptop and sat on the couch, laying the device on his lap. The start-up from the laptop made Bokuto looked over as it sounded similar to the noise the black haired males phone made when someone texted him. Bokuto perched next to his friend on the couch, after placing the mugs of coffee on coasters on the table.

Bokuto was fidgety as he waited for Akaashi to respond to Kuroo.

A few minutes went past and then there was a small ‘ding’ from Kuroo’s pocket. Bokuto looked at Kuroo as if he was a puppy and someone had suggested a walk. Kuroo just rolled his eyes without even looking at the muscular man, pulled out his phone and opened it. It was from Akaashi.

_Hello, Kuroo-san. Kenma told me you had my number. Tell Bokuto-san that I’m sorry about yesterday if he’s still with you, if not- you don’t have to bother yourself._

Bokuto kept moving his glace from the phone to Kuroo and back to the phone. Akaashi was still a formal texter.

“Bo, it’s rude to read someone’s messages without permission.”

Kuroo started to text back:

_Bokuto wants to talk to you, I’ll give you his number._

He then proceeded to type of the number from memory. Bokuto protested as he wanted to be the one to initiate contact with Akaashi, not the other way around. However, Kuroo sent the message along with one of his aggravating smiles.

Five minutes passed and across the room Bokuto’s phone buzzed. He had received a text. A part of him knew it was Akaashi and the other part wanted it to be him. The correct reaction was to calmly get up and approach his phone. Not to push off the couch, jump over the table and bound over to it. It was Akaashi.

_Hello, Bokuto-san. I'm sorry about yesterday._

Bokuto smiled at the text out of excitement and happiness. Even though Akaashi had changed, it didn't feel any different. to talk to him. He felt like he was back in high school again. 

_Don't worry about that Akaashi. When can I see you again?_

Even when texting, Bokuto had no filter of speaking his mind. He should of slowly gotten into a conversation. He didn't care. He didn't want to think. If he spent time thinking then there would be a seemingly longer time to wait for Akaashi to speak.

And then the sound happened again.

_I'm free today and tomorrow, not to go out but to have the house to myself._

Bokuto sat crossed legged on the floor with his phone, humming in happiness. Kuroo left him to his own devices- he didn't want to interrupt. He wanted to see Akaashi. He wanted to be close to him again. Maybe that was the empty feeling that had just dawned on him. 

_Can I see you today? Can I come over?_

He sent it and inhaled deeply. Staring at his phone, waiting for a notification to appear. 

He got up and picked up his mug, drinking it hot and finishing it. Kuroo cringed as Bokuto was able to drink it like that. It was abnormal as Bokuto was able to handle hot temperatures. He walked to the sink and placed the empty mug there, noticing it had a pattern on it- cat ears. Typical. 

He walked back to his phone in time for it to go off. 

_Sure, Bokuto-san._


	2. Worrying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm aiming for around 6K a chapter.

_Sure, Bokuto-san._

Akaashi looked at the words before he sent them. His thumb hovering over the send button. He sighed before his thumb moved down. His dad was out for work and his mother was staying with his grandparents because one of them was ill. He was going to be home alone for at least two nights. He didn’t mind having people over its just that he didn’t know many people here anymore. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe Bokuto wouldn’t come over. Maybe… no. He wanted him to come over. He needed to apologize properly and correct himself when he blamed Bokuto completely for them two separating. He might’ve not put in enough effort to keep in contact himself. 

When he got home yesterday, his mother was about to leave. She scorned him for not being here to say goodbye to his dad but he was still bothered about what had happened at the park. Now he had cooled off and thought it through. If Bokuto really hadn't have changed he should've been gentler, he knew the man was prone to mood swings. He was one of the first people at school to manage it and one of the people to never get angry at Bokuto. Well, until yesterday. 

Akaashi sighed, unplugging his phone from the charger. He noticed a very excitable text from Bokuto saying that he remembers where Akaashi lives and that he'll be over soon. What does he mean by ' _soon_ '? 

Akaashi wasn't really prepared for guests. He was in sweats and an over-sized top, which was accessorized with messy hair and grey socks. He didn't care. He groaned as he picked up his toothbrush and started cleaning his teeth. As looked at himself in the mirror. After the university lifestyle of living on microwave food and alcohol and very little exercise except for walking, he had become skinny. His height made him look lanky and his muscles had depleted- yet he wasn't bony- just lean. He didn't look ill, he just looked smaller. He preferred looking like this. Clothes were baggy and comfortable. He finished in the bathroom and returned to his phone to see that Bokuto was already on his way. How eager is he? 

He grabbed his photo albums and walked downstairs, placing them on the kitchen counter. He scratched his neck before stretching out. Today was going to be a long day. 

 

 

 

 

Kuroo had only seen Bokuto move this quickly three previous times. When he was going to his first training camp and was excited yet had left his packing till last minute, the first time he ever got through three blockers and ran around the court, and when he was given caffeine- which is no longer allowed to happen. Now he was running around Kuroo's house trying to find his left shoe because he was going to see Akaashi. Kuroo wondered how the boy managed to lose his shoe in the first place however they found it in the end. He watched as Bokuto stumbled out of Kuroo’s apartment and then re-enter, run to the opposite side of the room grab his phone, shout ‘Goodbye’ at Kuroo and then run out. Kuroo had to get up and shut the door, looking at how Bokuto had already gotten down the steps and was running.

“See ya.” He said softly, smiling as he saw his friend sprinting like an idiot.

Kuroo shambled back into his home, kicking the door shut behind him. He was thankful to be alone for the moment. While Bokuto was around he did have much time to properly  _think_. By that, he meant release his frustration out on something. He was so annoyed and he had no idea what he was annoyed about. He wasn't pissed at Bokuto. He wasn't pissed at coach. He wasn't pissed at anyone. Why was he like this? He clenched his fist. Maybe it was because Bokuto was so happy with someone in a way that Kuroo had never been happy around someone. Maybe he was just jealous. 

However, who could Kuroo be with like that. Akaashi has an extremely good track record of having a high tolerance of bubbly stupidity, which is why he can deal so well with Bo. Kuroo didn't have anyone like that, and he didn't have Bokuto's raw energy. 

Who was he kidding? Kuroo knew all along why he was acting like this. 

He hadn't  _done_  it in so long. 

He hasn't allowed himself to think about it.

God, it’s so stupid. He keeps stopping himself from doing it, he keeps distracting himself, he lets it build up until he explodes.

He moved back to his laptop and re-lifted the screen, before setting his phone down next to him.

He moved onto private browsing, and muted his computer. The sounds weren't right- he didn't need the sounds. Only the images.

He discovered this a while ago. They had dyed-blonde hair with dark roots showing, a small/thinly-muscled build, soft feminine features. The male pornstar looked like Kenma. 

Kuroo sometimes had to remind himself that it wasn't Kenma. That Kenma was innocent and he was imagining it as Kenma because he is weird and sick and that something this good was wrong. 

Yet it was still good. 

They didn't sound anything like Kenma at all. Not when speaking normally and their moans were way too raspy, hence the mute. 

He found it erotic to think that it was his friend, because he knew it wasn't. He had to keep reminding himself that this was just lust. He didn't like Kenma. This desire wouldn't be worth ruining their friendship. After all, it was only lust, not love. 

His new habit for doing this had recently arose. It wasn't something he had always done; he had only discovered it around half a year ago.

He loaded up the site, it was simplistic, with the typical adverts for 'penis enlargement' and 'hot milfs in your area'. As he moved onto the gay portion of the site, the word 'milfs' turned into 'twinks'. The vocabulary of porn sites humoured Kuroo. 

He typed the look-alike's name in the bar, finding a video of featuring them titled 'cute twink devours cock and gets fucked'. Classy. He opened the video, pausing it to reach for the typical jerking off materials. (Lotion and tissues, nothing too weird.) He dipped his thumb into the waistband of his pyjamas, not yet changed out from where he was sleeping. He tugged them down, releasing his member. He was frustrated so he wasn't hard yet, but he was reacting to the thumbnail. 

He pushed down on the bottle, squirting some lotion into his hand. He wrapped that hand around his shaft, shuddering at the chilling temperature of the lotion, yet with an odd confidence he pressed play. The video wasted no time in getting to the action. This company didn't care for half-assed plot. 

It started out as a POV video, looking down at Kenma's doppelgänger. He looked do small in between a pair of large, muscular thighs. Would Kenma look like that knelt between Kuroo's thighs? God he hoped so. He started to move his hand slowly.

The boy licked up the shaft, his small hand wrapping lighting around the base. His shoulders trembled as the tip slid into his mouth. He looked up into the camera. 

His eyes were darker then Kenma's, nobody had Kenma's exact eyes. 

It was so hot and he was so  _fucking_  cute. 

Kuroo's movements reached a stable speed yet he tightened his grip, releasing a shaky breath. He watched the screen though half lidded eyes, his mouth cracked open and lips chapped. 

The Kenma on the screen was now fully bobbing his head, taking the thick member into his mouth and deep-throating it. His eyes were closed and his cheeks were lightly blushing. 

How would the actual Kenma's mouth feel wrapped around the cock Kuroo had now started to pump with his hand. Kuroo guessed it would feel pretty amazing. The though of it caused noir haired man to fixate his gaze on the screen, to pant loosely out of his mouth, almost like he was drooling. His perversions were so detailed. The boy on the screen was gagging, tears forming in his eyes as he continued to suck. His spine curing and his cute, rounded ass peeking into view. 

Kuroo had seen Kenma's ass before, back when they were changing in high school, back when he didn't think this way about his childhood friend. The skin on it was fragile-looking and pale, nicely curved, like a ceramic bowl. 

Then the scene transitioned with a fade away to a different shot, the boy was now laying down. He had been prepared and Kuroo wished they hadn't cut out that bit. However, that though vanished when he saw the boys mouth hang open and hair fan out onto the pillow. He looked like he was in ecstasy as he was entered. 

Kuroo moved his hands in time to the thrusts, enjoying how the boy jolted at the particularly harsh ones, his spine curving and eyes watering. 

His chest was turning pink and his dusty nipples were hard, alongside his member. The boy’s length wasn't large, it was average. It didn't look like it belonged on him, it was too obscene: leaking and bouncing. It gave Kuroo goose bumps when he looked at it. What did Kenma's look like? 

The boy was visibly losing his rationality as he leaked fluid out from the head. His eyes widened as he spurted out. Yet the thrusting continued, the writhing bottom convulsing from his extended climax. 

Kuroo was so close and then he heard a ding from his phone. It was a text from the one who had made him like this.

Kenma.

_Please call me now._

Kuroo needed to finish yet Kenma sounded needy for someone. Maybe something bad had happened or he was upset or... Maybe he was angry? Did he somehow find out about this and was disgusted? No. Nobody knew. With his free hand he shakily picked up the phone and went onto Kenma's contact. He noticed the picture of Kenma for his caller ID: him looking at his PSP, face illuminated, focused and deadpan. He was still adorable. Kuroo let out a shaky breath, his hand still moving. Yet now he was completely drawn to the image on his phone. 

He grunted softly and released, the video still playing.

However now he was more attracted to the image on his phone. Those innocent features, smooth skin, fixated eyes. Kenma. Kenma.  _Kenma._ Fuck. The way he viewed his friend was so wrong, but he couldn’t help it. The inappropriate mentality made the sensation of his thumb rubbing over his slit on the head even more exhilarating. He groaned softly- rubbing and hunching over, staring at the image with hungry, half-lidded eyes. Until those eyes closed- and he came with a small shudder. He just got off, and it was so annoyingly unsatisfying. It felt so small to be finished when the video was still playing. He got off quicker than he ever had.

But he still got off... Shit. He just got off to the actual Kenma and not the fake Kenma. He only imagined him before, yet now he was truly in deep. That may have been why. Because it was Kenma. He was in so deep he hadn’t realised he was drowning. 

He opened up a text back and replied.

_I will in a second._

He smiled for a moment. Sometimes Kenma can be so dramatic, but whatever it was Kenma wouldn't ask him to drop everything. He sighed and grabbed the tissue, starting to clean himself up. Then another text came through, the quickest response he had ever received.

_Now. Please._

 

 

 

Bokuto was overexcited for this. It was just a meet up, nothing more. Just two friends reuniting, nothing more. Just two people chilling, nothing more. Why was he sprinting then? How could he remember he exact place Akaashi lived even though he hadn't been there in years? Why was he clutching his phone in hope to elicit another text from the man he was just about to see? 

He was almost there. He left Kuroo's 20 minutes ago and he hadn't stopped running, his pace was shifting between fast jogging and full on sprinting in unrhythmic intervals, yet he was now on Akaashi's street. 

However, before he went to Akaashi's, he entered the shop on the corner of his road. When he was in the shop, he bounced on his feet from side to side while looking at snacks. He was so fidgety. 

Without thinking he grabbed a mixture of crisps and sweets and went to the till. He impatiently looked around as his items were scanned then placed in bags, following through with the quickest exchange of payment and change anyone has ever seen. He grabbed the bags, shouting a 'thank you' to the store clerk as he opened the door, weaving through an elderly person and someone walking their dog. He continued jogging giddily, crossing the road diagonally at immense speed. He almost fell over a couple of times, the bag slapping against his legs occasionally as he ran. 

Bokuto almost crashed into Akaashi's front door, as he stopped himself by leaning back on his heels like a cartoon character.  He hadn't noticed the insane amount of swear beading down his forehead. He wiped it off his head with his forearm and knocked on the door. 

He didn't have Volleyball practice today, he didn't have to go home, he didn’t have work, no possible interruptions. Akaashi opened the door, stretching out in a yawn.

Bokuto gasped lightly upon seeing him, he butchered his name as he jumped into the home and flung his arms over the shorter male. It was a habit, which came up due to his lack of sense of personal space and him not realising his own strength sometimes. 

Akaashi fell backwards from being glomped, however he didn't fall fully as Bokuto stayed on his feet and lifted him in the air. He made a noise of surprise before he relaxed his body and the same 'I'm-so-done' expression returned to his face.

"Bokuto-San. Please put me down." Akaashi said calmly as Bokuto swayed him. This feeling was faintly familiar, it's the same way he greeted Akaashi in the past, his siblings, people he knew well enough so he wasn't nervous that they'd completely freak out. Akaashi thought that it would've been too long to be greeted like this again, or that he would experience this greeting again. Evidently he was wrong. Akaashi noted that he was still patient enough to not bite his 1 year seniors head off.

Eventually Bokuto set him down, allowing the younger male to awkwardly shuffle past and shut the door. The ace silently took off his shoes. Akaashi took the bag and put it in the kitchen, where Bokuto followed him to. 

"Akaaaaaashi." The older boy whined when the host hadn't said anything to him.

"Yes, Bokuto-San?" He replied, tilting his head so one of his eyes met with Bokuto's. At this angle, the taller male had a clear line of sight to Akaashi's tattoo which rested behind his left ear. A wing. It looked angelic in a way but it resembled something more of a birds wing. Bokuto then realised he was staring. 

"Tattoo." He said bluntly, no context behind it. 

"Oh yeah." Akaashi said with no changes in his tone of voice. However, he did move his hair out of the way. Bokuto approached and lifted up his hand. 

Akaashi's skin didn't feel any different where the tattoo was, however Akaashi did flinch slightly when he came into contact without warning. Bokuto smoothed the pad of this thumb over the art, mumbling things like 'pretty' and 'cool' as he did. 

"Did it hurt?" He asked out of curiosity.

"Yes."

"Did it take long?"

"Kinda."

"Why a wing?"

"Felt like it." Akaashi answered every question, not moving as Bokuto was focused on his tattoo. When Akaashi managed to flick his gaze to Bokuto he saw a child trapped inside a man’s body. It was like he had stars in his eyes, his lips were parted slightly in awe, his fingers tracing over the shape of the wing. It was like he was in a trance. There was around two minutes of silence before Akaashi broke the silence. 

"Bokuto-San, I needed to talk to you about something." In response, Bokuto stepped back and tilted his head, his gaze now on Akaashi who had turned around to look at him face-to-face. "I- um, I am sorry about yesterday. What I didn't mean what I-" 

"You should've meant it." Bokuto cut him off. "Because it was right of you to say it." Akaashi found it odd for Bokuto to not be childish about something, to admit that he was wrong. The brunette just blankly stared at him for a moment, unsure of how to respond, his grey eyes blinking in disbelief. 

Akaashi averted his gaze towards the kitchen, noticing the fridge. He quickly said "Would you like a drink or something?" to disperse the awkward surroundings.

"Akaashi. I am serious." His stare at that moment was like the way he looked at the ball during games back in high school. Akaashi could tell that Bokuto was still a keen player because of his well-defined body. Yet that gaze told it all. The determination and partial hunger mixed with adrenalin and sincerity- it made Akaashi feel like he was being drawn to him in some way. 

Akaashi gulped, sighing softly as he moved to speak again. "Boku-" 

"Don't say 'san'." Bokuto interrupted. The atmosphere was extremely tense for no reason. Akaashi had never been on this end of Bokuto. This domineering seriousness is an attitude he occasionally used to deal with opponents. Was Akaashi his opponent? 

"Bokuto." It was weird to say it for the first time without the honorific, it also felt satisfyingly bizarre. Bokuto's stare softened and his lips curled into a smile. What was the point of all this? Why was Bokuto so desperate to see him?  Bokuto, within seconds, had shifted back to his unpredictable child-like personality. The rising strain in the air had settled and Akaashi felt like it was  _safe_ to talk again. “What drink would you like?”

“What drinks do you have?” Bokuto asked, watching Akaashi walk towards the fridge. He peeked over the shorter male, not giving Akaashi any reason to comment ‘see for yourself’. Silently, Bokuto leaned over Akaashi and grabbed a lemonade, showing it to the other male and waiting for him to nod in acceptance. Afterwards, the golden-eyed man stepped backwards and waited for the other to retrieve a drink and shut the fridge door. The he spoke again. “What do you want to do, Akaashi?”

Akaashi turned to face him however Bokuto had answered his own question before the other could speak. “Oh! I know what we could do!” In response, Akaashi just raised an eyebrow, opened his iced tea and sipped. 

“I don’t have the games consoles anymore.” Akaashi bluntly commented.

“No! 21 questions! I ask and then you ask. We have to tell the truth.” 

“Okay.” Akaashi said reluctantly as he sat on one of the stools- not commenting on how this was a game for children and gossiping/flirting teenagers. 

 

 

 

Kenma was terrible at planning things in advance. He did feel really shitty for having to rely on Kuroo for advice or comfort on this particular matter. He just hadn't thought this through properly. When Kuroo called him a few seconds after he sent that text he knew he had worried him. Kuroo's tone was panicked and concerned- laced with confusion. Kenma was startled by Kuroo's care however, he predicted the dark haired mans reaction when he would tell him what was really wrong.

"Kuroo. I screwed up." Kenma said, softly and whining. Kenma sounded tired, exhausted and slightly irritable.

"Kenma?" Kuroo's tone changed. As if he was more relaxed now then he was when he called. 

Kenma was sitting on his carpet floor in his dorm, surrounded by empty cardboard boxes and a messy pile of his stuff, another mountain of his clothes, and several stacks of towering papers. Kenma rubbed his forehead as he looked at the wall of junk. The actual packing isn't what had him stressed. His burnt omelette didn't stress him out. It was after this dorm. Where he would go next. Kenma knew his parent's weren't at home because they were on an anniversary cruise that was going to happen for the next half a year. Kenma also forgot his key. It just now hit Kenma that he couldn't go home once he left university. He often went to Kuroo for help. It was a comfortable dependency for Kenma to always have some form of communication with his previous captain. His hair was only slightly longer than it was in high school, however now it was messier and up most of the time. It was like that now. He was sitting in shorts and a large t-shirt which covered the shirt.

“Can you help me find a cheap hotel?”

“What for? Kenma did you burn your dorm down?”

“No…” Kenma paused and sighed. “Well, I need-to-find-a-home-for-the-next-half-a-year-because-nobody-is-at-home-and-I-don’t-have-my-key-and-I-don’t-want-to-live-on-the-street-so-I-need-to-find-a-cheap-hotel.” Kenma spoke incoherently and quickly.

“Huh?”

"Mum and dad aren’t home and I don’t have my key so I have to find a hotel or I will be homeless because I only own this dorm until the end of this week. Please don’t laugh at me.” Kenma got quieter and quieter as he spoke, his final sentence was barely audible. On the other side of the phone he could  _feel_ Kuroo trying to hold back a laugh.

“You really don’t think ahead do you, Kenma?” Kuroo’s voice cracked slightly under the pressure of a laugh trying to escape.

“I can tell you’re trying not to laugh, Kuroo-san.” Kenma spoke half venomously and half tiredly.

“Tell me, Kenma, have you even packed up your things yet.”

“Well there is no point in packing if there is nowhere to take it.” Kenma said as he began to unravel a cardboard box and fold it so it could store things until he got angered by it and pushed it away.

“How have you survived this far?”

“Help me…?” Kenma whined tiredly, and to Kuroo’s post-orgasm mind it sounded oddly erotic. He groaned- disguising it as a cough before he started to brainstorm.

“You can stay at mine until you find somewhere.” Kuroo offered, suggested, prayed, whatever you want to call it. The idea of being with Kenma was comforting to Kuroo. He was reluctant to letting the shorter one live on his own. He hadn’t completely done it yet. That was evident by Kuroo’s call and text log and the amount of issues Kenma addresses him with. The black-haired man didn’t mind it. He actually enjoyed spoiling and looking after Kenma. Not because he felt like Kenma needed looking after (because he did) it was just normal and a habit to have the other close by. For convenience and peace-of-mind reasons. Also Kuroo gets incessantly worried about the pudding-head.

“Kay.” Kenma said. Kuroo already knew Kenma was tired of talking, he had learned not to take it personally. He understood Kenma usually hated speaking on the phone, and for Kenma the amount he said in the call was plenty enough.  

“Do you want to text instead?” Kuroo offered, taking Kenma’s ideals in for consideration over his own convenience. However, he was surprised by the response.

“Nah. I still need to explain to me how to correctly make an omelette. Maybe if it’s done verbally I might grasp it.”

“You’ve had years to ask this question.”

“Yeah?”

“Wait, if you didn’t burn down your room, what’s wrong with the one you made today?”

“Burnt.” Kenma responded with minimalist effort.

“Ah. I guess it would be easier to demonstrate it to you. You’ll have to learn next week.” Kuroo laughed.

“Kuroo. I only have eggs to last until the end of the week.” Kenma sounded genuinely worried and concerned.

“Oh the glamourous life of a university student.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I know, I know.” Kuroo stood up and walked around to stretch out his legs. “Okay, so how many eggs do you have left?”

 

 

 

After a couple of minutes of discussing who should ask the first question, it was settled that Bokuto would be the brave soul who would answer first. Akaashi had no clue what to ask first.

“Who are you still in contact with?”

“Nobody really from Fukurodani as I only see them casually out and about. I’m still friends with Kuroo and I’ve gotten closer to some other people- some you haven’t met but they were playing Volleyball while we were. I sometimes talk to Hinata- remember him?” Akaashi nodded in response. “He is really good. When he graduates he’ll probably join our team. And Karasuno's old captain; Daichi and his friend Sugawara who you also know."

“You still play.” Akaashi mumbled to himself almost in his own head, not meaning to say it aloud. Luckily Bokuto didn’t hear the side comment.

“My turn!” Bokuto excitedly boomed out- pulling Akaashi out of his trance-like feeling. Akaashi looked at him and quirked his brown, awaiting the question. “Why maths and photography?”

Akaashi answered simply. “Maths is because I’m good at it. Photography because I’m good with angles and I got my uncles camera.” He shrugged.

“Wah- you were always good at maths.”

“You weren’t.” Akaashi said bluntly.

“You’re never going to let that failed maths test go will you?”

Akaashi laughed. It wasn’t a loud one. It was sincere, through the nose… genuine. It was rare for Akaashi to let out a laugh that would cause his abdomen to ache- even Bokuto has never seen him laugh hard enough for that to happen. It did bring Bokuto back down to earth though, as it made him realise that there was possibly sides to Akaashi that he (and potentially nobody had seen).

“Uhm, I don’t really know what questions to ask so let me think for a second.”

Bokuto remained silent, allowing the feeling of self-depreciation sink in. Did he ever know the man sitting in front of him? Sure- he felt familiar in his presence and Akaashi  **definitely** knew him. But that also enticed the golden-eyed man; in some sort of way. 

“Are you currently employed.”

“Yep. Bartender on some nights and I help out at the gym occasionally- helping kids learn volleyball.” He smiled proudly to himself.

Akaashi didn’t know what he expected, however he wasn’t surprised. Both jobs seemed to suit they guy eerily well. 

Bokuto wanted to hear more about Akaashi though. He didn’t really want blunt answers- he actually wanted detailed accounts of the ex-setter’s life. Maybe a story?

“What was the best night of your life after you graduated from Fukurodani?”

Akaashi did have a few moments he thought of. However, from what he had seen from the other Bokuto definitely wouldn't find the story close to the type of fun he would have. I didn't involve getting drunk, any girls or getting naked. 

It was two days after graduation and he had met up with Kenma. It was the night he realised he liked photography. A night where him and a couple of strangers spent hours watching the night sky on a roof, drinking a lot of coffee. Drawing and taking photographs. Akaashi has memoirs of that night- photos he took, portraits people drew of him. Art. Art like he never knew it. It was calming and peaceful; something that he never saw in sport. Kenma had brought his PSP and several portable chargers and played a mixture of games into the night. 

Akaashi also received praise from someone about his photography. He wouldn't say he continues photography for this person yet when the stranger told him he was good something inside Akaashi felt euphoric. Maybe it was because that person was beautiful and he might of been older older, wiser and better than Akaashi in every way. Maybe he was the person that awakened the boy from denial. 

Or maybe Akaashi just fancied that man, because that simple stranger had golden eyes. They reminded him of someone he hadn't seen for so long. 

"Two days after graduation I spent the night on a roof in downtown Tokyo. Kenma was there also. It was the first time I really got into Photography." Akaashi said vaguely. Averting his eyes. He presumed Bokuto was giving him a look of bored disbelief. He tried to not over explain it because it would lead to other uncomfortable conversations. 

"Ah." Bokuto sounded softly. "Your turn."

"I'm going to move into the living room." 

Akaashi stood up and looked at Bokuto momentarily, seeing that the other one was following him.

He sipped at his drink as he walked through the doorway and sat on the sofa. Bokuto perching down and crossing his legs like a child on the couch. 

"Do you still live with your parents?"

"No. I live in downtown Tokyo. I have two roommates. Daichi and Sugawara. Kuroo used to live with us but he moved upstate for a job." He smiled at him. Akaashi did remember those names from when he was in high school. "I'm alone in the apartment at the moment because they both abandoned me to go on holiday."

Akaashi gave him a look as to say ' _why didn't you go with them?_ '

"They're together. I mean, together together." Bokuto said simplistically. 

"Me again!"

They went on for a while, Bokuto asking menial questions about Akaashi's pet peeves and favourite things, Akaashi asking random questions that didn't really allow him to find out much.

Until they got to the nineteenth question.

"Who was your, y'know, first?" Bokuto asked, his brow rising.

Fuck. Akaashi either needs to straight up lie or come clean about the other lie he said at the train station platform and possibly humiliate himself. Akaashi gulped softly. 

"Erm." He coughed awkwardly. "I'm... Going to get another drink." He obviously avoided the question, even Bokuto could tell. 

"Akaashi?" Bokuto paused and looked at the grey-eyed man’s back. "Was yesterday your first?"

"No." He wasn't lying.

"So when was it?" Bokuto asked calmly. He wasn't demanding. He was just trying to get an answer out.

"It was... Urm."

"You lied to me didn't you?" Bokuto said softly. He was angry, more upset, in a way that made it out like he expected it. 

"About what?"

"You sleeping with someone yesterday?" The multi-tonal haired male’s expression looked confident and unsure at the same time. As if he knew he was right but he didn’t know if he should’ve called it out. Akaashi didn't expect Bokuto to get this good at deciphering things, discovering things. Akaashi just bowed his head, that was all Bokuto needed as an answer.

“Don’t look so guilty. So what… you’re a…” Bokuto stifled a laugh. “Virgin.”

Akaashi’s head turned around to glare at Bokuto within milliseconds, which made the taller man shut up very quickly. The brunette followed up with a sigh and quickly walked in the kitchen, retrieved a new can- this time it was a cheap energy drink, and sat back down; avoiding all possible eye-contact with the other.

“Why does it matter? Why does all this matter, Bokuto?” Akaashi still wasn’t looking at the other but the meaning behind his words were clear as ice. Transparent and cold; like a sharpened icicle.

Bokuto’s eyes widened. He wasn’t sure if he understood the question. Did it have to matter? Did there have to be a reason? Didn’t Akaashi want to reconcile?

“Because it just does.”

 

 

 

Bokuto had been at Akaashi’s awkwardly for around 2 hours now after _that_ question. They had managed to decide to have something to eat. So now both of them were fumbling around in the kitchen in silence. However, Bokuto had now discovered something: Akaashi was shit at cooking. He blankly stared at the ingredients and utensils, his eyebrows raising as if he felt threatened. Bokuto kept softly mumbling giggles. Akaashi stared at a carrot with a wooden spoon in his hand. How was this guy an adult- and how was had he managed so far? Bokuto always thought Akaashi was the responsible one- throughout all of the time he ‘knew’ him.

He found it oddly charming how flustered Akaashi was in this situation. It was both unbelievable that this man had lived independently yet it also isn’t as that ‘independent’ living was on a university campus- a habitat notoriously known to house people who are incapable of ‘normal’ living. Bokuto imagined Akaashi eating cereal out of a saucepan.

This was not microwavable food.

“I don’t mind cooking alone.” Bokuto said, his voice breaking into a laugh as he saw Akaashi prod at the carrot with the stick end of the spoon. “How do you major in mathematics and not understand cooking?”

“I’ve said this once before. Cooking is a form of sorcery.”

“As is prime numbers.” Bokuto said, slowly taking the spoon from the virgin. It did startle Bokuto. He knew Akaashi was attractive- many others obviously thought so. (Bokuto wouldn’t deny that he wouldn’t turn him away in bed.) Was there a reason? Akaashi sat down on a stool in the kitchen. Pulling over his photo album

“Well, I know how to work the microwave so if you need any help there don’t be afraid to ask.”

“Please tell me you haven’t been living on microwavable food.” Bokuto looked around at Akaashi, noticing the book the other man had opened. He managed to turn away and started chopping stuff. Truthfully, Bokuto had no idea what he was cooking- or even trying to cook.

It would be an adventure.

By adventure, Bokuto meant a basic-ish salad with chicken. He wouldn’t claim to be the best cook- after all Kuroo and Daichi were better than him so he was out of practice. His food selection was also refined from the diet he had for training. So a chicken salad was all he could manage with the selection of food he had on offer. He also had to put away the carrot that Akaashi almost chopped (prodded with a spoon.) Akaashi had pushed the book he was flicking through to the side and plucked a mixture of leaves, tomato and radish into his mouth.

It was worrying how amazed Akaashi was by the dish, it really was. How deprived was this guy?

“What even is quinoa?”

“I don’t know, Bokuto. You’re the one who made it.” Akaashi said, eating calmly in comparison to Bokuto who had already picked out the meat and eaten it and was now scooping up the leaves and notably seeing the grains in the bowl.

“Kuroo made it once in a salad, I only copied him. That doesn’t mean I have any clue what it is, Akaashi.”

There was a moment of silence.

“What is Kale?”

“Bokuto. I can’t tell the different between cabbage and lettuce, you’re really asking the wrong person.”

“Okay, sorry… Keiji.”

There was another moment of silence. Contrastingly this one was severely different. Akaashi’s eyes had widened and Bokuto was looking at his through a mouthful of ‘wonder grains’, ‘rocket leaves’ and cucumber.

“I was only testing it, I-“

“I don’t mind.” Akaashi interjected.

Bokuto was determined to keep the conversation going this time.

“What is the book you were reading?”

“Not reading. I was looking, Bokuto.”

Bokuto looked at Akaashi who was passing the album to the golden-eyed man. Giving him a look which conveyed: _Get this dirty and I will kill you._ He opened it and he found out something undeniable. This was Akaashi’s album. His pictures. Even though Bokuto wasn’t an art enthusiast he knew. These images, these shots of landscapes and people- they were breath-taking.


End file.
